


Something Has To Give

by JuliaDarkness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt Scott, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Illness, Scott Needs A Hug, Scott and Stiles make up, Tags Are Hard, Theo you bitch, Trigger Warning inside, and a nap, flash backs, idk words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7792033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaDarkness/pseuds/JuliaDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles saved the sheriff, but Scott hasn't healed. He can barely stand. Maybe it's poison, maybe it has to do with the fact that he hasn't eaten all day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Trigger warnings for mentions of self-harm.
> 
> Set after 5x12. For a sweet guy who has the shittiest luck, there are not enough Scott hurt/comfort fanfics out there. So I am going to try and fix that a little. Maybe I'll even inspire other writers to try writing Scott fics too. Anyway, hope you like this.

They had stood in the tunnel. The stench of damp wood and rust made him want to vomit. Stiles had just called Scott's mom about the bone fragment. The phone call ended when the edges of Scott's vision began to blur. He was woozy, like he had somehow managed to get drunk. His wound was still bleeding, he knew, but there had been more pressing issues at hand. Besides, Scott was no stranger to pain. And blood.

He had stumbled, the weight he carried too heavy for his legs. Stiles' hand was on his shoulder, he could feel it, and he said something. . .something. . .

Scott was tired. Too tired. He needed to sleep. To sleep until this everything was nothing more than a dream. The poison wasn't helping things.

He then lay on the ground-how did he get there?-and Stiles was yelling something. He was always yelling something. Scott almost wanted to shush him. Instead he closed his eyes. Let the demons take care of themselves this time.

He wanted to sleep.

* * *

The next thing he felt was something soft underneath him. A blanket covered his body. Scott opened his eyes. Bed. His bed.

Next to him the clock told him 10 hours had past. Holy shit. Scott stood up a bit too quickly. The world started to blur again.

"Hey, easy." Malia was next to him all of a sudden, gently pushing him back down t sit on the bed. Where did she come from?

"Deaton said you needed to take it easy for the next few days. The poison isn't quite out of your system and your wounds need time to heal." Malia sat herself on the bed next to him. He caught her staring at his stomach even though he was fully clothed.

"Where is everyone?" It was then that he remembered the sheriff.

"Stiles is at the hospital. He's been driving back and forth for the past 5 hours. His dad woke up from surgery about an hour ago. He's going to be fine."

"Thank God." Of course Stiles would be checking on him. They couldn't stay mad forever.

"Your mom's downstairs on the phone with the school. You're going to be missing classes for a few days."

"Why?" Did something happen to Abuela?

Malia looked down at her hands. After a few seconds she started to her outstretched fingers.

"When I was at Eichen House, there were a couple people who seemed fine at first. They talked, they were friendly. But they had bags under their eyes. At lunch they didn't eat much." She clenched her fingers together.

"When was the last time you ate, Scott?"

He couldn't remember.

"Listen Malia, I'm fine." He covered her hand with his own.

"That's what they said too."

"I'm not going to Eichen." The thought of being trapped in Nellie Bly's nightmare made his stomach churn. Maybe he had eaten something.

Malia looked up at him finally. "Do you remember when you officially invited me to the pack? When you came over to my house?"

_Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had been standing there for a good 5 minutes and the social anxiety a lot more uncomfortable than any physical discomfort._

_Mr. Tate actually seemed pleased that he showed up that Saturday afternoon, supposedly as part of the lacrosse team's volunteer outreach program. But it was taking a while to get Malia to let him see her. Her reluctance was strange considering she wanted him to teach her how to control her powers._

_Finally Mr. Tate poked his head out from the stairway. "First door on the left."_

_Inside was a bedroom laid bare of everything but a bed. A little girl's things were overflowing out of cardboard boxes. And the girl was sitting on her bed, arms crossed, eyeing him._

" _Hi."_

" _Hi."_

_They had already met once, when Stiles was possessed and Malia told them some vital information. She was very brief and walked off without so much as a see yah. Human niceties were going to take some time._

" _So, um, I came here because I wanted to invite you to join my pack."_

_She tilted her head. "I am part of your pack. You changed me back with your roar."_

" _Oh. Well, uh, then, I guess I'll come in a few days, to start teaching you."_

" _Okay. Bye."_

_Well at least she got the bye part right. That's progress._

_Scott took a step to the door and felt something under hos foot. The edge of a plastic tea cup saucer peeked out from under his shoe._

" _I'm cleaning. Getting rid of stuff." Malia grabbed the plate and tossed it in a box. As she did so she kicked up the bed skirt to reveal several more plates, cups and stuffed animals lying in a heap._

" _Were you playing tea party?"_

" _No!" Malia kicked the toys deeper under her bed. "I'm 17." She ducked her head, hair shading her eyes._

_17 going on 9. Malia spent half her childhood as a coyote._

" _Well that's too bad. A tea party sounds like fun. I've never been invited to one."_

_Malia looked up. "Really?"_

" _Yeah. I always wanted to. And I had nothing else to do today. But if you're busy packing, I'll leave you alone."_

_He took two steps before she grabbed his wrist._

_Half an hour later, they were sitting on the floor drinking Lipton Iced tea out of tiny plastic cups and munching on ginger snaps Mr. Tate found. The look on the man's face when he saw Scott in a fireman's hat and Malia laughing a story about about Coach made Scott feel more like a hero than he had in a while. And he also felt happier than he had in a while. He hadn't had a chance to just chill and not worry about supernatural crap. That afternoon made him feel like a kid himself._

_When he got on his motorcycle to leave, Malia made him promise not to tell anyone else. He came back several more times to play hot wheels and watch Shrek and pretend they didn't have to worry about being killed by some monster. Just the two of them._

She had pulled her hands away by then and had wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt warm. Malia had always felt like his beta from the start. Unlike Liam she always accepted his role as leader, even now.

"Malia, I promise you, we're going to get through this. Look at me," he said softly. She met his eyes after a moment. "I'm not going to Eichen." They already had Lydia there. One person was enough.

"You're right. You're not." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Because we're not going to let you."

* * *

Malia left after his mom came up, with promises to come back tomorrow and to have her phone on if he needed to call her, at any time. Scott couldn't quite explain it then, but those promises stuck with him. Something to hold on to.

His mom also sat down next to him. She immediately took his hands.

"Hey sweetheart, how you feeling?"

"Tired. Not that much pain, though. I think I'll heal okay."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't remember."

"How much sleep have you been getting?"

"Not a lot."

His mom nodded, nurse mode on.

"How many times have you used your inhaler this semester?"

"Not that many. They don't happen as much as they used to."

"You're a werewolf, Scott. This shouldn't be happening at all."

"I don't know, Mom. Maybe. . ." He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Scott." She cupped his chin in her hand. He looked up into her eyes.

"I think you have depression."

_It was the night before they would set out to Mexico. The plan was in place. All that was left to do was sleep._

_But Scott couldn't sleep. So instead he leaned against the porch railing and let the light of the half moon wash over him. He watched as the cuts on his arm healed._

_He wasn't able to save Allison. Boyd. Erica. The teachers, the students, the people who all lost their lives because he was unable to do anything. He didn't save Jackson. Lydia did. He didn't stop Jennifer. Deucalion did. All he ever did was watch helplessly as others fought and died. All he did was find the bodies._

_Now Derek was in danger, again, and Scott could only hope he wouldn't fail, again._

_Another cut. This one healed too. He focused on the pain, the ritual, that drowned out his werewolf senses and stopped him from hearing._

_"Scott?"_

_Scott pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his arms and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt a hand on his shoulder._

_"What are you doing up?"_

_"Uh, just thinking Mom."_

_"Well it's late. You can think tomorrow."_

_"Okay."_

_He quickly ran up to his room without making eye contact at her. With the door locked he rolled up the sleeve to see nothing, not a scratch. His mom couldn't have seen._

"I am not seeing a therapist Mom. What the hell would I even say?"

"I'm talking to Deaton about finding one who knows about the supernatural. You start next week."

"But-"

"I saw you dead, Scott. That's not something I'm going to repeat."

He winced. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She pulled him to her. She pressed his head on her shoulder and kissed his hair. It was like when he had a really bad asthma attack. Or when his dad came home drunk.

"You don't have to be sorry, sweetie. I love you sweetheart. And I'm so proud of you."

"I failed, Mom," he blurted out, soothed by her voice. "I fail at everything."

"That is not true Scott. You are a lot stronger than you think. But sometimes you can't save everyone. That's something I had to learn. That's something Stiles' dad had to learn. That's something a lot of people have to learn. All you can do is try. And you do."

"But now this thing is running around killing people and the Dread Doctors are still out there and Theo. . . I don't know what to do."

"You're not alone honey. I'm here too. And I'm going to figure it all out with you." She kissed his head again. "You're not alone."

* * *

His mom said he was going to miss the few days of school. Catch up on sleep, heal, etc. The school thought he had a minor breakdown and teachers were going to help him when he got back. Scott thought they had probably given up hope on him anyway. He was missing work already what with Deaton not there.

But really, how could he just rest when there was a monster on the loose?

Again?

The blanket was pulled over his head. It was like that song, he was too tired to fall asleep. The gash on his stomach really wasn't helping. A beep from his phone brought him out of his thoughts.

_My dad's going to be okay._

_Good_

_What about you? I left before you woke up._

_Fine, just tired and injured, skipping school for a couple days_

_Good, you need to rest. I'll come over in a few minutes to spend the night._

_No be with your dad I'm fine_

_My dad's asleep. And no, you're not fine. I'm coming over to check up on you and help you whether you like it or not._

At least Stiles didn't hate him. And there was no point in arguing. Stiles had a key.

_Okay but don't wake up my mom_

_Okay. Scott?_

_Yeah_

_We're going to get through this._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Thank you so much for the reviews guys! They're really sweet.
> 
> I feel like I should clarify that I'm not shipping Scott and Malia in this fanfic. Actually I'm not shipping anyone in this fanfic. Sorry if I didn't make that clear, but this story is about friendship.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Same trigger warnings as last chapter apply.

Stiles didn't use the door. He jumped in through the window, just like when they were kids. He did not wake up Scott's mother though, so Scott just let it slide.

Scott tried to stand again. He wasn't that dizzy anymore, but the pain from his freshly bandaged wound was too much. He groaned and eased him back onto the bed.

"Hey Scott, easy does it."

Scott lay down on his back. He didn't see any blood seeping through his shirt though. He had still been bleeding a bit in the tunnels. But somewhere between Malia and his mom and Stiles, the bleeding stopped.

Stiles didn't sit next to him. He jumped over his legs and lay down beside him on the bed. With the covers pulled over them and the two of them face to face, Scott knew despite everything nothing had changed.

"I'm sorry," Scott said.

"Me too."

"What happened?"

Stiles' gaze wandered to the wall. For a few moments there hung a heavy silence Scott didn't think they had the strength to lift.

"There was a pin, a little metal pin attached to the scaffold," Stiles said after two minutes. "He was trying to pull me down. . ."

"He was trying to kill you." He almost lost him, again.

"I pulled the pin and these, metal braces came down . . . One of them went right through him."

"Why didn't you tell me?" They told each other everything, always. If Stiles hadn't figured out he was a werewolf before he did Scott would have thrown pebbles at his window and climbed up to his bedroom with his claws. It was always the two of them, even when they were part of a pack.

But he hadn't told Stiles he cuts himself. So maybe they were even.

Stiles finally looked at him. "Because I broke your one rule. The way you looked at me that night in the rain, it was like I attacked you, not him. Ever since the Nogitsune part of me wonders if maybe there's a darkness in me. That I'm evil. And that night. . ."

Scott scooted over and rested his head under Stiles' chin. The scent of his skin, the beat of his heart, the heat of his breathe, steadied him. Stiles was here, he was safe. They were safe. Stiles wrapped his arm around Scott's waist and held him tight.

_Stiles laid his head on Scott's chest. It felt awkward because they were in high school now and high school guys don't cuddle, but Stiles was actually asleep for a change and so Scott did his best to ignore the drool seeping through his shirt and the cramp in his arm and just let Stiles be. It was a week after the Nogitsune and Stiles either slept in his dad's room or Scott's. It would be another few days before he was ready to go back to school._

_Scott was drifting off to sleep himself when he heard Stiles' heartrate speed up. His breathing hitched. Another nightmare. Scott ran his fingers through his friend's hair and mumbled some stuff about how it's okay, they're safe now. He sensed Stiles' pain and took it into himself. If only he could do that for everyone._

_After a few minutes Stiles' heartrate slowed back down. Scott drifted off to sleep and tried to deal with his own nightmares._

"It should have been me," Scott whispered into Stiles' shoulder.

"What?"

"It should have been me. I should have been the one to have been put in that situation, not you."

He felt Stiles move his head. "Why?"

"It's my responsibility. I'm supposed to protect everyone."

"What about my dad? What about all the police in Beacon? Isn't it their job too?"

"I mean, yeah, but-"

"And don't other people, like FBI agents and hunters and other packs, also do their fair share of fighting evil?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"And isn't the whole point of the pack supposed to be working together and sharing responsibility?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"So then why is it all on you, Scott?"

"Because . . ." He searched for the right words. Of course it was all on him.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you think you're not healing that fast?"

"Because Theo poisoned my inhaler."

"He did wha-okay, besides that. Remember that time we were on our way to the murder motel? You didn't heal because you wouldn't let yourself heal. It was psychological."

He remembered waking up to Allison. Stiles must have realized that, because he sucked in his breathe.

"The point is you aren't healing well because of your mental state. Your mom told me you haven't been sleeping or eating enough. She thinks-"

"I'm not going to therapy, Stiles."

"It isn't a sign of weakness to ask for help Scott. It fact it can be a sign of strength. I went to see a counselor before. I even checked myself into, okay that's a bad example because of severe malpractice, but I mean in general psychological help can be, you know, helpful."

"I'm not crazy." That was debatable.

"What did I just say? I went to see a counselor. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No." That was also debatable. "But we have so much on our hands already. I don't have time."

"I don't want you to hurt yourself again Scott."

He understood then when people said their blood ran cold. For a second his blood didn't run at all. Scott lifted his head and tried to stop the quiver in his voice. "What?"

"At the motel. You were about to, to burn yourself." Stiles chewed on his lip.

"Oh. Yeah."

"What did you think I meant?"

"Uh, nothing. Nothing."

For a second Scott hoped that that would be it. But this was Stiles, and Stiles never let him hide anything. He closed his eyes to avoid his friend's prying eyes, but felt a hand stroke his hair again.

"Scott," Stiles said softly as though talking to a timid animal, "have you ever done self-harm?"

Shit.

"No. Why would you ask that?" Scott tried to turn over but Stiles grabbed his shoulder. Of course he wasn't usually strong enough to stop him but Scott was so weak at that moment that Stiles pushed his back onto the bed.

"Hey, Scott, hey, it's okay." Gently he placed a hand behind his shoulder and helped Scott up to sit. He gripped his shoulder and pulled him into a sideways hug.

"Talk to me."

"Ever since Allison . . ." Scott took a deep breathe. "And in 7th grade . . . I just, I don't know. It's like I'm mad at the world and I'm getting revenge on myself."

"7th grade?"

"Only for a couple months. Remember, Kyle Arden? After he moved away I stopped."

Stiles made a clacking sound with his tongue. He didn't ask who Scott was talking about, Five years and a lot of shit later and a bus stop bully was still one of the worst enemies either of them could name.

"I didn't know. How could I-why didn't you. . ." Scott knew he must be wracking his mind and thinking of times Scott wore long sleeve shirts.

"It wasn't that bad. I hardly ever did it before I turned and I almost never bled. More scratches than anything. I'm fine, really."

"No you're not, Scott. No you're not."

"Yes I. . ." A denial caught in Scott's throat. It was as though he was rubbed raw. Too tired to hide behind anything. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I keep trying to save everyone. I don't want anyone to get hurt. But everyone keeps dying." The back of his irises burned.

"You did save people. Remember with Peter? He tried to hurt Jackson and you mom and Allison. You saved them. Those were your plans. Or what about when you gave Gerard mountain ash? I didn't even know about that plan and honestly I was kinda jealous that you thought of that all on your own."

He remembered Peter had also said he was impressed, but Scott had thought that was his way of trying to get him on his side.

"You've always been so nice to everyone. A lot nicer than me, that's for sure. You got all these people ready to listen to your plans-hunters, kitsune, psychopaths-you know people that you wouldn't expect to listen to you. That takes a lot of, uh, something. Leadership stuff." Stiles grimaced. "See this is why I'm not a therapist."

Between the lull of Stiles' voice and the lack of sleep, Scott actually found himself giggling. Stiles smiled at him.

"Come here." He pulled Scott into a full on hug. They sat there for several minutes with Scott's head resting on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles waited for Scott to let go before he did, and the two boys lay down again.

"Can you promise something Scott?"

"What?"

"If you think you're going to hurt yourself again, I want you to call me. Call me anytime day or night, okay?" He sounded so soft and gentle. It made Scott feel safe.

"I'm a werewolf. I'll heal."

"That's not the point." He took his hand in his. "You need to take care of yourself."

"Why?"

"Because you matter."

"I'm not going to kill myself Stiles."

"Self-harm doesn't always equal suicidal ideation. But it's still bad and you can't do it anymore. So when you think you want to, talk to me. Please?"

Scott thought about it. He wasn't sure if he would follow through, but he wanted to reassure Stiles.

"Okay."

"Good."

"Please don't tell my mom."

"I won't if you agree to see a therapist."

If his mom found out he was going to have to see a therapist anyway. "Okay."

"Okay. Now let's get some sleep."

* * *

_He stood in the library, completely healed. There was no sign or sound of anyone, but when he turned around Lydia was leaning against a table and flipping through a book._

" _Lydia." He walked over to her, convinced she would disappear. The light of the half-moon lit her red hair like a halo. She threw the book aside and gave him a "really now?" look._

" _Scott, what are you doing?"_

" _We're going to save you-"_

" _Not that." She grabbed his forearm with unnatural strength. The shirt sleeve slipped back and bleeding cuts crisscrossed over his skin. How did they get there?_

" _This isn't good, Scott," she said. She released his arm. Scott yanked the sleeve back down._

" _I, uh. . ."_

_Suddenly they weren't in the library anymore. They were in the aisle of the auditorium and they were watching themselves. It was the night they found out about Jennifer. Scott saw himself try to reassure Lydia._

" _Lydia I swear, you give me the time and I swear to God I'll do something." He took her hand in his._

" _You don't know how much I needed to hear that," the Lydia next to him said. She watched the scene before them, lips trembling as she spoke. "All that time I kept finding dead body after dead body and I didn't know why. I didn't know if I could handle it." She turned to him. "And then you said you would handle it with me."_

_She reached out and took his hand. Both Scotts and both Lydias intertwined their fingers, each giving and drawing strength._

" _I know you're going to get me out soon Scott. Don't worry, I have a couple of things to take care of first."_

" _Thing?"_

" _You'll see. For right now just focus on saving yourself. And know that I'll be here, with you." She squeezed his hand. The music on stage reached crescendo._

* * *

_Scott was in the hallway now. The door near the staircase was slightly ajar. Soft sobbing echoed painfully in his ears. He remembered this._

_He saw himself walk past him. He followed into the room where Isaac was curled up and crying in his sleep. He saw himself gently shake him awake._

" _Hey, Isaac, it's me. It's okay."_

_Isaac woke suddenly and fully alert. With werewolf senses Scott could hear the muscles tense, then relax._

" _You had another nightmare, didn't you." It wasn't a question. They varied, but the most frequent consisted entirely of being trapped in an elevator or coffin or, for some weird reason, a blue telephone booth. For the past five days since he'd been living with them Scott had woken up to the sound of childhood trauma._

" _Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He brushed off Scott's hand from his shoulder. "I'm fine, really."_

_Scott didn't bother arguing and flipped over the covers to make space for himself in the bed._

" _Scott, you've already given me a place to stay. I can't-"_

" _Isaac, it is 4 in the morning and we are both too tired for this bullshit. I'm going to sleep here until the nightmares go away and you are going to not hog the covers. Good night." He didn't mean to be so snappish but being woken up every night does that to a person. (And as for the place to stay, Scott preferred keeping a close eye on Isaac. Made sure he had a bed and a half decent home life. From the packed lunches his mom Isaac, Scott guessed his mother thought the same.)_

_Isaac turned towards the wall._ " _I don't feel comfortable sleeping next to a guy in his underwear."_

" _Freshman year I slept in the nude."_

_Scot watched as he and Isaac drifted off. In the end it only took a few days to stop the nightmares. Before bed they would stay up talking about whether lacrosse would ever be an Olympic sport again and if cold chicken tasted better than cold pizza. A couple times Isaac genuinely laughed. The house felt larger after he left._

" _I miss you too you know."_

_Scott turned around. There was another Isaac leaning against the door frame._

_"I needed to get away. To figure out what, who I was supposed to be. Beacon Hills has too many memories."_

_"I know."_

" _Besides, I'm not the one who decided to become a superhero." That cocky grin was still there, and for that Scott felt truly grateful._

" _Yeah, I'm Spiderman, dead girlfriend and all." It slipped out before he could stop it._

_Isaac grimaced. "I miss her too."_

" _It was my fault."_

" _You didn't kill her, Scott. And she loved you. You were her superhero."_

_Next thing he knew Isaac had his hands clasped behind Scott's neck._

_"You're my superhero."_

* * *

Scott woke up to the smell of Stiles' armpit in his nose. He turned over and nearly threw up his nonexistent dinner. Nearly high school graduates and the guy still forgot deodorant. Stiles snuggled deeper into his special pillow he brought, asleep and uncaring.

The stench was soon replaced with the smell of bacon. His mom was home, making breakfast. A rare occasion as of late. He must have really scared her. Scott realized he was hungry, another rare occasion as of late. Not only that, when he attempted to stand up he didn't feel and dizziness. There was a pain from the wound, but it was much milder. For the first time since who knows when Scott was almost content.

His mother heard the staircase step creak and shouted from the kitchen "don't come down, I'm bringing you breakfast in bed."

"What," he shouted back.

"You're home sick from school. Now back to bed." She always gave him breakfast in bed when he was sick.

Scott slipped back into bed without waking Stiles. His mom would just fry extra bacon. And French toast, both of them loved it. The Sheriff could get Stiles excused for coming in late.

As Scott got comfortable he glanced over at his nightstand. He slept 11 hours.

No wonder he felt content.


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Sorry this took a while, I had school and stuff. But now here's chapter 3. Also this chapter became a bit more graphic than I planned, so, yeah. Enjoy.

Scott fell into a somewhat easy routine. His mom had taken the week off from work. She would make him big breakfasts of bacon and eggs, then watch him eat the whole thing. Then he would catch up on the homework he hadn't had time to do (apparently all his teachers were sympathetic and gave him extensions on everything.) Stiles would come by after school and force him to watch movies or play videogames, or even worse, talk. There wasn't much he could say without Stiles getting upset though, so Scott gave short answers as much as possible. Stiles would stay the night, not falling asleep until Scott would. It was then late at night, too dark to see his face, that Scott would let something slip. He'd listen to his friend's breath hitch and feel his arms pull him close to his body. Love and guilt and fear and desperation-a desperation to hold onto to something, anything-would all mix together as he fell asleep listening to Stiles' heartbeat.

One day the sheriff came with Stiles. Scott didn't have a chance to say hello before his head was resting on the sheriff's shoulder and he smelled curly fries and whiskey.

"You're going to be okay son. You're going to be just fine."

If he wasn't still somewhat numb, he might have started crying.

Deaton called him once to tell him he could come back whenever he felt ready. Even if things might seem like they were falling apart, they were also falling back together. Scott fell asleep that night dreaming of pieces of glass shattering and flying apart and landing in the sky.

But what stopped and started his heart again was a message from his father. He was still in San Francisco getting some things sorted out. But when he came back he wanted to drive him to any college in the state. A road trip.

"I'm so proud of you Scott. I know you're going to do great things."

If only he could believe him.

Then on Friday his mother had to go to the store for food and aspirin. She wanted to wait until Stiles came home but her head was aching and Scott promised he would be fine. Of course he would be fine, what would he do? (She didn't know about the clawing, or at least she hadn't said anything.) With three goodbye hugs and a reminder that her phone was always on, she left.

As the family car roared to life Scott realized it was the first time in days he had any time truly alone. He quickly turned on the television to a random infomercial to drown out the silence. Upstairs he slipped back under the comforter. The name really fit, comforter. It was like a cross between a blanket and a hug. School let out in half an hour. Stiles would be here soon. He would be . . .

The next thing Scott knew he was somewhere dark. And cold. And covered in dirt. He tried to sit up but his arms were chained to his sides.

"Did someone enjoy their nap?"

Theo leaned against the wall on the other side of the cave. Yes, cave, an underground cave somewhere. Without thinking Scott's eyes flashed red as Theo knelt down next to his head.

"You were so out I didn't even need to do anything but drag you here. Good thing Stiles had a little car trouble," he said with a smile, "or this might have gotten difficult."

"What do you want?" He tried to shift but his strength still wasn't back yet.

"Well I can't take your powers just by killing you. And Liam didn't work out." Theo stood up. Scott was forced to crane his neck up to watch Theo hold up a black bag.

"So I thought, if I can't take your power, I might as well do the next best thing." The bag tipped over. Electric cords spilled to the ground. They reminded Scott of Mexico. Maybe Theo somehow found out about the hunters' practices and took notes. Or maybe he was just that sick enough to think of these things on his own.

"I'm going to take you, Scott."

* * *

_Now Scott was in his bedroom, but instead of Stiles, Kira was sitting on his bed. Her black hair curled over her shoulder. He tucked a lock behind her ear._

" _Hey." She tilted her head and smiled._

" _Hey." Scott sat near her. "How are you doing?"_

" _Learning how to control my powers. It's. . ." Her smile faltered. "Difficult."_

" _I know what you mean."_

" _No, it's different with me." She sighed. "But we're not here to talk about me. We're here to talk about you." She gestured to his arm. His sleeve had rolled up, and red, angry scars, mended but not healed._

" _It's nothing."_

" _Scott." Kira curled her fingers around his arm. She traced her finger over one long, curved scar. His skin felt nothing._

" _Why are you all doing this? You, Lydia, Isaac?"_

" _Because we care." The ends of her hair brushed his skin as Kira pressed her lips to his scar._

_He missed her. He missed lying in bed with her next to him. Not even the sex, just lying together. He missed hearing her laugh. He missed her bright eyes. He missed the way she got all excited about ice cream and Disney movies and motorcycle rides through side streets. He missed her._

" _What's going to happen next?"_

" _I don't know. But you're not alone, Scott. You're never alone." She took his hand in hers and kissed his open palm._

" _You're not alone."_

* * *

The sound of electric sparks drifted into his dreams. He couldn't tell if he felt pain or if he couldn't feel anything anymore. It had been an hour. Scott passed in and out of consciousness. Theo slapped his face once, twice, then again.

"I'm taking you, Scott. Your alpha-hood" _slap_ "your sanity" _slap_ "or your life." _SLAP_ "Your choice."

Scott didn't say anything. But when Theo flipped the switch on again, his screams put Lydia to shame. The sparks shot through the chains to his skin and down to his nerves.

He was burning.

Eventually his voice gave way from all the screams. Theo shut off the sparks.

"Being stubborn is not getting you anywhere."

_You are never getting anywhere near my pack again._

"Besides, look at how well your pack is doing right now."

_Look at how much pain you've caused._

"Sooner or later you're going to submit to me."

_Sooner or later I'm going to die._

"So just give up."

_So why not now?_

* * *

" _Go back to Mexico you freak."_

_Middle school buses were their own section of hell. The driver threatened to drive back to the school once, but he never did. Someone in the back of the bus had crinkled up hard taco shells and threw them far enough to land in Scott's hair. At least this time no one tried to steal his inhaler._

_At the first bus stop Scott and several other kids got out. Head down and hood pulled up, Scott walked briskly down the road. No one said anything to him. Stiles didn't take the bus home._

" _Hey McCall," a familiar voice called out behind him. Scott broke out into a run. Behind him he heard footsteps hit the pavement like nails in a coffin, his coffin. Everything in his brain told him to run. But Kyle was the fastest kid in gym class. Scott has asthma. Even with his house less than two blocks away they knew how this would end._

_A hand grabbed the handle of his backpack and yanked Scott down. His back hit the ground. Hard. Above him Kyle bared his missing tooth._

" _Where do you think you're going?"_

_He scrambled to his feet. Kyle twisted his arm back so it almost popped out of his socket. Then he pushed his body forward. The world tilted. Sidewalks hurt._

_Kyle laughed as he dumped his backpack out onto the sidewalk. He kicked a binder into the street, called him retarded, and left. Scott's face felt hot as he gathered his things. The rest of the people at his stop walked by and he could feel their looks hitting his back more than the pavement. No one offered to help._

_It wasn't until he was locked in his bedroom with the curtains drawn did he get out the scissors._

* * *

Unfortunately he already knew exactly what burning flesh smelled like. The fact that he could recognize the smell really said something.

Theo had gotten bored with electrocution. So he propped Scott against the wall. He knelt down, looked him dead in the eye. Words were said, words that at this point he couldn't quite grasp. His nerves were raw. The pain was sharp and aching all at once.

Then a hand took him by the hair and threw him to the ground again. Scott took a second to realize that the little whimper he heard was his own.

Why was the world fuzzy?

* * *

_It was where he had first gotten shot by the hunters. He remembered being so confused and scared and sure that he was going to die. but from what? What_ was _he? But that was at night. Now he looked up at the sun making patterns through the leaves. White clouds passed by in no hurry. If this is what death was like . . ._

_"You're not dead yet."_

_Derek. He too looked up at the sky as he talked._

_"What are all of you guys doing? Is this real? Am I hallucinating?"_

_"We can transfer memories through our claws. Sometimes we can talk through out dreams."_

_"Well why are you all talking to me?"_

_"Because we could feel that something wasn't right." Derek walked over to him. His hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket. Scott detected the smell of cologne from his neck. He guessed that him and Brady were doing alright together. Derek deserved something good for a change._

_"You're better than you think you are, Scott. Better than all of us. Maybe it wasn't just chance that you got bitten. Maybe it was fate. Because I don't think any of us would have survived this without you."_

_"What's so special about me? I try and try and all that ends up happening is more people die."_

_"That's just it. You try. No matter what happens you get back up to fight. You want so bad to save the people around you that even after all the shit you went through, you still stay standing." He put a hand on Scott's shoulder. It reminded Scott of when he had first told him they were brothers now. "That's pretty rare, Scott. That's why your eyes are red."_

_"But I don't think I can keep doing this. Any of this."_

_"It's okay. Because we're here with you. We'll help you do it."_

_Maybe it was because it was a dream. Maybe the electricity gave him brain damage. But Scott threw his arms around Derek's neck. Like a child he pressed his face against his shoulder as he started cried again. Even more surprising, Derek hugged him back._

_"It's okay Scott. It's going to be okay."_

* * *

Theo had left suddenly. Probably to break out some medical supplies or medieval crap. If this was an action movie this would be the point where Liam Neeson comes in with a gun.

Then Scott thought he heard people talking nearby, or yelling. There was a thud. And a snap. It sounded like fighting, but he was too close to passing out at that point to be sure. That went on for a few minutes. Scott closed his eyes. Maybe he could just fall asleep and everything would become a dream . . .

But then there was the roar.

Not Neeson, but definitely a Liam.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: And this concludes my story.
> 
> If you like this, feel free to check out my other works. Or other people's works that cover similar stuff. Or just turn off the computer and go eat some chicken. All good options.
> 
> Enjoy.

Scott's eyes were open long enough to see Theo fly across the cave a land a few feet away from him. Then Liam grabbed Theo by the throat and slammed him to the ground, picked him up and slammed him again. Theo tried to pull at Liam's arm. He struggled as Liam use his other hand to slash Theo's face with his claws. Blood oozed from Theo's cheeks and nose. Scott wondered when he became used to the smell of blood.

Stiles was there all of a sudden. Or maybe he came in with Liam. He had a bat he dropped to the floor. Obviously he wasn't going to need it since Liam was busy hulking out.

"Okay, Scott, it's going to be okay buddy." Stiles fumbled with the lock on the chain. He snapped it open with what looked to be a lock pick. When this was over, Scott was going to ask Stiles where and why he got a lock pick, and how many illegal things he had done with it.

"You're going to be okay. Scott? Hey, buddy, stay with me, okay? You're going to be okay . . . don't . . . Scott? . . . don't pass . . . stay . . ."

Everything got blurry. The pain was blurry. Scott liked blurry.

Stiles was saying something. It was important. It sounded important. But so was sleep. Scott wanted to sleep. He wanted the pain to sleep. He wanted it to blur, to fade. Fade to black.

The noises dimmed. Scott remembered one thing before he went to sleep. Liam screaming.

"I'm sorry."

He screamed that to him, over and over again.

* * *

_It was clouds. Lots of clouds. But he could walk on them. And sit on them._

_She was sitting on a cloud._

" _Allison?"_

_She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. Her hair curled around her shoulders and shined under the light of the sky. Her dress was long and white. He ran to her and collapsed in front of her. She smiled and took his face in her hands. Her hands were warm._

" _It's okay. I'm here."_

" _Am I dead?"_

_He realized in that moment how much he didn't want to be dead. He wanted to finish high school and go to college to study to be a vet. He wanted live with Stiles like they always said they would. He wanted to spend Christmas with his grandparents. He wanted to ride his motorcycle through empty streets and eat ice cream in the summer and spend Saturdays lying in bed until noon. He wanted to live._

_Fortunately, Allison shook her head. "You're not dead, Scott. But you need to let us help you."_

" _How?"_

" _You told me once that werewolves find strength in a pack. Find strength in yours."_

" _I don't understand." Tears dripped from his eyes. They slipped from his cheeks to her fingers. She wiped the wetness from his face. She was so gentle. He missed her so much. She took his hands in hers. She closed her eyes. He did the same._

" _Think of all the people you've seen. Lydia, Kira, Isaac, Derek. Malia. Stiles. Liam. Me. Think of your parents. Think of everyone you've protected. Imagine all of us here, with you. Our souls linked to yours. Draw on our strength and our love."_

_Their faces flashed through his mind. Their words echoed in his thoughts, telling him to stay strong, telling him they were there. A warmth spread through his chest. He felt safe. That was a strange feeling._

" _Good. Now think of yourself. Think of all the good you've done. Think of all you've accomplished."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because you need to let yourself heal. It happened before, Scott. Remember? We were on the bus and you weren't healing."_

_He remembered. He had thought Derek was dead, and it was his fault. Scott had passed out in a gas station bathroom and woke up to Allison stitching his wound shut. His guardian angel._

" _You need to let yourself heal, Scott." He felt her lips press on his. He kissed her back. She felt alive to him._

" _You need to love yourself."_

_Why? He just did everything wrong. He just kept finding the bodies. Allison tugged his arms to her. Scott opened his eyes as Allison wrapped her arms around his waist. He rested his head on her shoulder. But he didn't cry. He was too tired to cry._

" _You need to let go of this self-hatred." Allison sighed, and gently pushed him away from her body. She did that thing, where she smacked her lips together when she was trying to think of something to say. Scott watched her lips, her cheeks, her nose. He wanted to remember everything._

" _I let you die, Allison."_

" _Remember how you once said you believed in fate? That was my fate, Scott. That was my destiny. You couldn't change that. It's not your fault."_

" _But-"_

" _Scott." She silenced him with a word. "How I any of this your fault? How is any of this your responsibility?"_

" _I have these powers. I have the power to stop bad things from happening."_

" _No, you don't have that power. If that was in your power, you would have done it. There are lots of werewolves in Beacon Hills. How come you think you have to do it all?"_

_There was no answer Scott could give. If he had a year to think, he still wouldn't come up with an answer. The warm feeling in his body grew. A cozy, homey feeling traveled through body._

" _Say it, Scott," she whispered._

" _I . . . I love, I love myself."_

_The words were barely audible, barely there. But Allison smiled like he shouted it from the roof tops._

_A bright light appeared from above. Allison kissed his forehead._

" _It's time for you to go."_

" _Don't leave. Please." He clutched her body to him like a child with a teddy bear. But the light was getting brighter. Everything faded into the light._

" _I'll be here. In your dreams."_

" _Allison."_

" _I love you, Scott. And I always will."_

* * *

A bright light appeared from above. A blinding fluorescent light that Scott was familiar with. The cold operating table. The windows overlooking the parking lot. He was at the animal clinic.

"Scott? Scott, can you hear me?" The light was blocked out as Dr. Deaton bent over him.

"Huh?" For a second Scott thought he fell asleep during work. He blinked and tried to sit up. Dr. Deaton pressed a hand on his shoulder.

"You should probably stay there for a minute or two." Scott did as he said, although he didn't feel anything wrong with him.

Sneakers tapped against the waiting room floor. He smelled the familiar scents of Stiles, Liam, Malia and his mom. Anxious energy filled the air. It had a pungent smell. Like many things, it was something he had grown used to. Dr. Deaton listened to his heart beat. He checked his blood pressure. Outside, Stiles said something about waiting room magazines. Scott knew their waiting room only had pet magazines. Usually the people in the waiting room were the type of people who read those things. They were waiting for a pet. These people were waiting for a werewolf. Maybe, Scott thought, they should have werewolf magazines, too.

"Well, Scott," Dr. Deaton said as he put his equipment away, "you've been out cold for four hours, and if I hadn't been told what had happened, I would have no idea of what happened."

"Huh?"

"You're healed, Scott." He smiled at him. "I see no sign of any physical injury or aliment. How do you feel?"'

Scott sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the operating table. There was no pain. No dizziness. Slowly he pushed himself off the table. He took a few steps, all sure and steady.

"I feel fine."

He felt numb. He had been captured, tortured, rescued, then saw his dead girlfriend in a dream, told to let go of months of guilt and self-hatred, and woke up in his place of work wearing no shirt. Again. He wasn't sure what he should feel. Physically, he felt fine.

"Some people are waiting outside for you. Do you want me to send them in?"

He didn't know what else to say other than yes. He didn't know what to say to everyone. But he'd have to see them all eventually. Dr. Deaton went outside the room. He heard him tell them to come in.

Then he heard the sound of running. Stiles, a scrawny human made of pale skin and fragile bone, threw himself at him. He squeezed his body so hard that if Scott weren't a werewolf he knew one of his ribs would break. Their arms encircled waists and necks and everything went where it was supposed to go. They hugged too many times to count.

His mom came next. She smelled like rubbing alcohol and their worn sofa. She ran her hand through his hair like she always did. Scott kissed her cheek, just like she did for him when he was little. He had changed. He had grown older with time. But he couldn't outgrow this.

Malia clasped her hands behind his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, like a little child wanting to be held. Her faith had never wavered. From the first day they met, she had accepted him as her alpha. She looked to him as a leader. She argued, ignored his orders (and common sense) on more than one occasion. But she would always be at his side. She was his beta as much as someone he bit.

The beta he had bitten lurked in the doorway. He looked at anything but him. Scott knew what he was feeling. Guilt. Self-hatred. Scott felt what happened as partly his fault as Liam's alpha. But Liam was at fault, too. No one was wholly innocent in this. Scott didn't go over and hug him.

"Thanks for saving me," was what he said, instead.

"No problem," Liam replied. Then he left.

Their issues would be sorted out in time. But not tonight.

Scott allowed himself to be led to his mom's car. Stiles was saying something about Theo, who somehow got away, the slimey bitch. Lydia was still in Eichen House. They were going to get Kira later that week and formulate a plan to rescue her, a plan Stiles had already half mapped out. Malia hoped that the plan involved beating her former orderlies up. The two of them sat on either side of him in the car, legs pressed up against his. His mom told them to let him rest tonight, they could sort out everything tomorrow.

When they got home, Malia called her father and said she was sleeping at a girl's house. She threw an old sleeping bag down on the floor. Stiles took up his usual position on the left side of the bed. It was a small pack. A broken pack. But still a pack. Scott knew that his mother would check up on him while he was sleeping, at least twice. He drifted off to sleep, content.

* * *

"Why do you have a mirror on the wall?" Scott fiddled with a throw pillow as he sat on a couch. All therapists on TV had pillows and couches. But not mirrors.

"In case someone was crying and want to make sure their face is clear. Or to tell themselves positive affirmations." Dr. Miriam Goldberg, a middle aged Druid with curly grey hair and a black cat, sat in an office chair. Her diploma from various universities hung on the wall. Just like on TV.

"Huh?"

"I love myself, I'm proud of myself, etc."

"Oh."

Dr. Goldberg wasn't like the clinical people on TV with the ink bloats. She gave him a journal on his second appointment, to write down anything he was feeling when he thought about hurting himself. She did have to tell his mom about that (because, even though he had a job and a motorcycle, he was still 17). But that didn't go as bad as he thought. His mom didn't cry a lot or yell. Dr. Goldberg said she probably already had experience with this stuff at the hospital. That made him feel better. It made him feel normal. Other people were going through these things, too.

For the last three weeks, he went every day after school for an hour. Dr. Deaton changed his schedule around it. Scott told Dr. Goldberg about his dad, Allison, middle school bullies, that time he thought he was gay so he kissed a boy at a 7th grade birthday party, only he wasn't gay and he sneezed in the boy's face right afterwards. (Unless there was a risk of harm, Dr. Goldberg was sworn to secrecy.)

She also encouraged him in getting Kira, rescuing Lydia, and recruiting members of the now alpha-less chimera pack to join up with him. All of them, except for Tracy, joined him with little persuasion. Hayden said yes before he finished asking.

"Why do you think they all said yes so quickly?' she asked as he hugged his pillow to his chest.

"Because Omegas have a hard time. And Theo's, well, Theo."

She chuckled. "And?"

"And, um, because they know I care about them?"

"Yes, I think that's a strong reason. In my experience, the most respected alphas are the ones who show the most care to their betas."

The cat rubbed her body against his ankles. She was a trained anxiety animal. Scott scratched her behind the ears.

"You know, Scott, you remind me of another alpha I knew once. She also started young. She was unsure of herself. But she became one of the most renowned leaders in these parts."

"Really?"

"Yes. Her name was Talia."

Scott looked up at Dr. Goldberg. He hadn't heard much about Derek's mother. But what he did hear was always compassion, strength and guidance. This was an honor he wasn't sure he could accept.

"Thank you," he said anyway, because he was learning to accept compliments.

The sun shone through the clouds as he left D. Goldberg's office. If Scott were a writer, he might consider that a metaphor. But he was studying to become a vet. He rode his motorcycle through the quiet streets. He parked behind the clinic. Liam was there.

For the last few weeks, Liam had been there when they were rescuing Lydia, recruiting chimeras and looking for any sign of the Dread Doctors. But they had never been alone in the same room for more than a minute. They had both avoided this talk, for different reasons.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," Scott said. He waited, watching Liam swallow and fold his arms over his chest. Scott had to fight his own demons. Liam could fight his, too. He wasn't mad. He was never mad. Disappointed was closer.

"Thanks, for letting Hayden in."

"Of course."

Liam looked down at his feet. "Why did you do it?"

"Because Hayden-"

"Why did you bite me?" He looked up at him, and Scott remembered how young he looked. "Why me?"

"Because a wendigo had my arms in a death grip." What was he supposed to have done, Scott, thought, levitate him?

"But why did you save me? You knew that would make me part of your pack." His voice became louder, ore urgent. "Why'd you do it? Why?"

After all these weeks of other people telling Scott he was going to be okay, he had learned something. Sometimes just saying it will be okay isn't the answer.

"Remember when Coach was yelling at us for going to Mexico? After Kate kidnapped me?"

"Yeah?"

"He told us to look after you." He came over and lay a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Well, that's why I saved you. Because I was looking after you."

"But I'm a monster."

"No. I've seen monsters. I can tell the difference." Scott drew in a sharp breath. "And I know what's it's like to lose someone you care about. I know the reasons why you did what you did. It's understandable, even though it's wasn't the right thing"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"I know." Suddenly a thought came to mind. A rather ironic thought.

"You said you didn't like taking your medication, right?"

"Yeah?" Liam had said his meds made him tired.

"What about therapy?"

Liam's eyebrows scrunched together. "Therapy? Like what you're doing?"

"Kind of. You'd probably do something different, I guess."

"Um, can I think about it?"

Scott knew Liam would go if he made him. For all that had happened, Liam usually listened to him.

"Yeah, you can think about it. Take your time."

But Scott didn't want to force him.

The clouds drifted in the sky, pushed by a stubborn wind. The light scattered along the pavement. Cars and buildings cast long shadows. Liam's face became half covered in shadow as he began to leave. Scott impulsively grabbed Liam and dragged him back into the light. He pulled him into a tight, quick hug.

"It's going to be okay, Liam."

Liam hesitantly hugged him back. It was awkward, and after a moment they broke apart. Liam looked up at him.

"Thanks."

Scott smiled. He started walking to the clinic.

"Scott," Liam called out. Scott looked over his shoulder.

"Thanks for being my alpha."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's other note: ta da.
> 
> Thank you to all my readers for your encouragement (and for putting up with my writing when it gets a little cheesy). I couldn't have done it without you. You're the real MVPs.


End file.
